


Edith

by CantSpeakFae



Series: BtVS: One Shots [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angelus is a bastard, Drusilla is shattered, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Illness, Miss Edith is the only constant in Drusilla's life, One-Shot, Vignettes, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 18:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantSpeakFae/pseuds/CantSpeakFae
Summary: There was no heaven, just a sea of red and pale legs that parted for Daddy whenever he smiled. Sharp teeth, needles, and a pinch of salt to help the medicine come back up.





	Edith

Shattered dolls.   
  
Battered dolls.   
  
Splattered dolls.   
  
Bits and pieces.    
  
Pieces and bits.    
  
That was all that was left of poor little Edith.    
  
She’d always been such a sweet girl, in the eyes of those who saw her. With hair like the sun and a smile that could freeze roses. Drusilla had loved her the best of her sisters, though she never spoke those words aloud. She was just as God in that way, for she knew her heavenly father loved Edith best of all, though he’d never say.   
  
She was as pure as snow every day that Drusilla saw her.   
  
Until the last day, when she was stained with blood.   
  
Her life oozed from her body in rivers of red. Between her pretty, white thighs that were splayed open...from the wound on her throat and the gash in her head. Sunlight was being darkened by the touch of night. A lion had come to call, and he’d eaten them all whole. The pretty maids were not so pretty anymore.    
  
Drusilla had cried. Oh, how she wept. Oceans of salt stung her cheeks like swarms of bees, and she’d clutched her darling Edith to her chest until her heart ran as dark of the rivers from Edith’s neck and fear made her move again. She’d left Edith on her bed, covering her with a sheet to hide her from the prying eyes of the devil that lurked in the shadows. The lion had taken her virtues, but modesty could always return. Dear Jesus had sung that to her.   
  
But when Drusilla left, dear Edith still went with her.   
  


* * *

  
Sweet Edith was there, hidden from the light, when the lion found Drusilla again. His mane was soaked with the blood of her new sisters, and his roars tore apart the vows that she had just spoken. She was a bride. His bride, he told her, because he was God.    
__  
No.   
  
No.   
  
No.   
  
Drusilla was the Lord's bride, and she was going to be pure forever and a day. She told him that when the oceans came to flow again, but he took her as his own bride anyway. On the floor, in the blood of her new family. Again and again, while Edith watched. Drusilla was shattered the same way as her sister, and when she cried, it was to beg Edith to close her eyes. She ought not to watch such an impure thing.    
  
But Edith looked on anyway and was never sorry for a second. Not even when a second lion came from the pit, to rut with the beast that had broken poor Drusilla. Edith didn’t look away, but she did pray. Drusilla could hear it...it was like music, stained with ink. But God didn’t listen. God didn’t want a broken bride. That was what the lion roared when Drusilla echoed Edith’s prayers.    
  
Drusilla was a cursed thing.   
  
**Unholy**.   
  
**Unclean**.   
  
So Edith was silent. And as was she.   
  


* * *

  
Edith is a doll.   
  
A pale doll. A broken doll. She never blinks, or drinks, or asks for anything. But she does all of those things at the same time, and it’s dreadful confusion in Drusilla’s mind. She was in Drusilla’s arms as they stood in the shadows and watched as the earth swallowed the bodies of the shattered. Edith was a gift from Daddy; the lion who licked the blood from Drusilla’s thighs and brought heaven’s fire crashing from the skies to purge the world of its innocence.   
  
Just like he’d done to poor Miss Edith.   
  
“You’re mine, now.” Daddy whispered as he stood up again. He pressed his hand over Drusilla’s mouth when she whimpered, and then moved it up to her eyes when she looked for the light. When he kissed her, he was her angel. An angel with dark wings and sharp teeth, blocking her from God’s view. Blocking her from the light.   
  
Only the saints got to see. The sinners, like her, could never feel the sun.   
  


* * *

  
Edith was there.    
  
_Always_.    
  
A ribbon over her eyes kept her from seeing the light; the light that Drusilla had grown to fear. There was no heaven, just a sea of red and pale legs that parted for Daddy whenever he smiled. Sharp teeth, needles, and a pinch of salt to help the medicine come back up.    
  
The medicine was coming up now. The blindfold was slipping. The lambs needed their wool back.   
  


* * *

  
Drusilla once wanted to be pure. 

What is she now?

 **Cursed**.

 **Unclean**.

**Unholy**.   
  
A shattered doll.   
  
A battered doll.   
  
A splattered doll.   
  
Bits and pieces.    
  
Pieces and bits.   
  
Drusilla is broken.    
  
Just like Miss Edith.


End file.
